


Take You on a Cruise

by chinesebakery



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cruise Ship, Anxiety, Baby Queen Denali, Cruise Ships, Drag Queens, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Minor Character(s), light emotional hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-28 13:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: Two drag queens are on a boat.(Rosénali cruise ship AU)
Relationships: Denali Foxx/Rosé
Comments: 22
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it goes, folk. I'm marking this as complete for now because I'm having trouble "plotting" this so I'm not entirely sure if/when there'll be more. I just need to scream about these two in one way or another. 
> 
> Much thanks to pinkgrapefruit for beta reading.

Denali stared back at herself in the mirror and managed not to wince. 

Now she was almost done beating her face, all she could see was the mistakes – the odd arch of her eyebrow, the harsh contouring under her cheekbones… This was not the polished look she'd painstakingly trained herself to recreate over and over, back at home, when she'd had the luxury of time and quiet. It was close – but it was not it.

Thankfully, the other queens were too busy scrutinizing their own faces to notice.

Her day so far had been a chaotic whirlwind. In fact, she'd barely had a moment to breathe since she'd received  _ the _ phone call a few weeks back, offering her a spot as a cruise ship's drag entertainers crew. That night, she'd drunkenly cried tears of happiness and trepidation. 

Last-minute replacement or not, booking that kind of gig with only a few months worth of drag performing experience and next to no connection was unheard of.

The money was pretty good, considering she was housed and fed. On top of that, it was a golden opportunity to ripen away from the watchful eye of the Chicago drag scene and emerge fully grown on the other side. The schedule was  _ intense _ – the closest thing to drag queen bootcamp – but that was nothing new to her. 

"That braid looks  _ fierce," _ Olivia beamed as Denali finished adjusting her wig. And just like that, the entire room's attention shifted back to her.

It was impossible to resent Olivia though. From the moment she'd welcomed her in their shared bunks with the brightest of smiles and a long, warm hug, they'd settled into the kind of comfortable friendship that can only be built with time or chance.

Denali steeled herself and focused on projecting a coolness she didn't really have, while five heavily made-up pairs of eyes appraised her. She'd only just met the rest of the crew and could help but feel intimidated. Not only was she the least experienced of the lot, but she was joining the group at the eleventh hour when they'd all had time to bond. However, she'd been a competitive athlete for most of her life, and she could fake it until she made it among the best of them.

"Let me see." Rosé crossed the room in a flutter of tulle, looking absolutely statuesque in her giant heels and lush pink hair. She stopped right behind Denali, leaning over her shoulder to scrutinize her. When their eyes met in the mirror, Denali felt a flush creep up her throat but refused to lower her gaze.

"Looking good, babe," Rosé finally said, her impeccably drawn lips curving into a smile.

"Okay," Symone chimed in, "word of advice for the new girl. Don't go drinking with Miss Pink over here. If you try to keep up, all the dramamine in the world won't save you."

Rosé rolled her eyes before sending an extravagant flourish her way.

"Don't miss your call time," Olivia offered. "They really don't care how many hours it takes you to look pretty. If you're late, you're out." 

"No, no, the real first rule of a cruise ship is: don't fuck the guests," Tina threw in.

"Or, you know." Rosé smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. "Don't get  _ caught." _

"Seriously," Tina insisted, her massive, bright orange wig swaying dangerously as she wagged a finger at Denali. "Don't try sneaking anyone in. They have eyes everywhere _ ," _ she warned, nodding her chin toward a security camera in a corner.

"Noted," Denali said with a cautious nod.

"Oh, and please don't throw up on stage," Gottmik stressed. "Wouldn't be the first," he added when Denali gaped in horror.

Before anyone could offer more guidance, the speaker started blaring static.

"Ladies!" RuPaul's tone was mild, but all the queens had fallen instantly quiet. Their boss had a knack to inspire both respect and an ever-living terror in all of them.

"Ten minutes to showtime. Are you all ready?"

The room erupted into a frantic dash for last-minute touch-ups, set to the tune of flapping fabric and misting hairspray. One by one, the queens exited to the backstage area, while Denali stood frozen in place.

_ You can do this, _ she tried convincing herself, but she couldn't remember how to properly breathe. How was she supposed to perform if she couldn't get enough air in?

"You okay, Dimples?"

Rosé's tone was light, but she was observing her with a casual perceptiveness that set Denali on edge. They were the last two behind, and eyebrows would certainly raise if they didn't join the other within moments. If only she could just  _ breathe. _

"Hey." Rosé grabbed her hand, her expression turning serious. "I saw you in rehearsal. You're gonna kill it," she said and gave her hand a solid squeeze.

The touch alone felt grounding. Without breaking eye contact, Rosé inhaled deeply and Denali mindlessly followed. Once. Twice. Once more.

"I  _ am _ going to kill it," Denali repeated, and the vice constricting her throat started to loosen. Squaring her shoulders, she kept her focus on her breathing and followed Rosé along the hallway to the stage, only letting go of her hand the moment before the curtain lifted.

***

That night, Denali had an absolute  _ blast. _

All the queens were top performers, and the audience was a perfect blend of chill and excited, just drunk enough to throw tip money at them throughout without ever overstepping.

Her favourite moment had to be the participatory section of the show when two queens were pitted against each other in a lip-sync, and the audience decided on a winner. She and Rosé faced off to a Britney hit, and while Denali was careful to not show off her entire range just yet, she had to admit Rosé was more than holding her own. Both of them danced the house down, playing off each other and jumping into a split at the same time while the room erupted into cheers. When Denali was voted the winner of their round, Rosé winked at her with a radiant smile, and her heart soared even higher.

By the time the spotlights dimmed and the speakers switched from blaring pop hits to the soft tones of a background playlist, Denali felt on top of the world.

She was the last queen to depart from the aftershow meet and greet, making a point to chat and take pictures with every single guest who'd have. It wasn't until Michelle, their MC, materialized next to her and gently but firmly invited everyone to make themselves scarce already that she gave in, and joined Olivia and Mik for a celebratory drink at the crew bar.

***

After de-dragging, Denali still felt restless. His body was vibrating with nervous energy, the high of performing still coursing through his veins. Since sleeping was decidedly not an option, he opted to go for a bit of fresh air and found himself wandering to the top deck. 

During the day, the place was consistently packed with guests and staff and after a few minutes lost to  _ trying _ to admire the vastness of the ocean, he'd concluded it was too tiresomely rambunctious for his likeness.

But now, in the odd few hours residing between late-at-night and early-in-the-morning, the deck was deserted and almost eerily quiet. The lights were low and intimate, the air pleasantly crisp. Beyond the railing, darkness stretched as far as the eye could see. For a moment, the sense of being where he was supposed to be that he'd been desperate to feel again was just within his reach.

"Hi, Dimples," Rosé called, startling him.

Denali found him lounging alone in one of the deckchairs lined along the guardrail, a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other. It was the first time Denali was seeing Rosé in all-boy clothes with his face fresh out of drag, and he did his best to dismiss the instant awareness that sparked at the sight. 

"You know, you could always call me ‘Denali'," he pointed out.

Rosé made a face that could have meant anything from ‘Dream on' to ‘I'll think about it'. "Want a sip?" he asked, raising an impressive eyebrow, and held up the bottle in invitation.

"Sure." Denali settled in the chair next to him. "I'm not invading your secret hideaway, am I?"

"Nope. Just chilling," Rosé grinned. "Tina snores like a mama bear. No point in trying to sleep until I'm at least halfway inebriated."

"How far along are you?"

"Nowhere near enough," he replied, holding up his half-empty glass.

Denali took a careful gulp of tepid rosé wine, right from the bottle's neck. "So, am I really putting myself in danger, sharing a drink with you?" 

"Symone's such a lightweight." Rosé rolled her eyes. "We're on a damn boat. Entertainment's pretty sparse around here, especially if you're sober." He drained his glass before setting it down on the floor. "It's just… It gets fucking boring, you know?"

"I really don't." The rush from before was only beginning to settle into a mellow buzz. For a moment, he'd felt the way he did back at the peak of his skating career, set on his path to an olympian future. Allowing himself to believe he was invisible.

"You'll find out," Rosé said softly. 

Delani took another long sip. "That sounded ominous as hell."

"How long have you been doing this?" Rosé shifted to face him, propping his head up.

Denali's heart began a slow plummet. Of course, Rosé'd figured out he barely knew what he was doing. He'd been caught. Fooling an audience with all his splits and tricks was easy, but his peers were another story.

"Not very long," he admitted.

"I couldn't tell. You were pretty damn fierce tonight."

"You really mean that?" he asked, his voice sounding embarrassingly needy to his own ears.

"Yeah." Rosé glanced at him curiously. "Of course, I mean it."

"Thanks." He couldn't help the smile of relief stretching his lips. "You, too."

"Oh, I know," Rosé smirked. 

With the low rumble of the ship lulling them into a comfortable silence, Denali felt a loose weariness settling over him. Next to him, Rosé tucked his arm under his head and let his eyes flutter shut.

Denali seized the opportunity to study him. Back in the dressing room, he'd noticed he was an attractive boy, of course – even with his eyebrow coated with glue and his hair flattened under a cap, that was fairly hard to miss. Up close like this, with the moon and stars gleaming over him, he was beautiful. Denali felt something stirring within him. There was something about this man he was drawn to, besides the obvious – he wasn't sure what it was. 

Suddenly, Rosé opened his eyes and met his gaze, his expression unreadable.

Denali fell completely still – a butterfly pinned to a board, frozen in time and place. He barely dared to breathe. The longer he held Rosé's eye, the more the flutter within his chest intensified. Neither of them looked away. Neither of them moved. 

They were close enough that he could just raise his hand and touch him. The sensory memory of Rosé's hand holding his own seized him – he wanted so badly to feel it again. It had been nothing but a sisterly gesture of support, hadn't it? Nothing to worry about. No danger there at all.

"It's almost sunrise," Rosé said, his voice barely over a whisper.

"Yeah." Denali cleared his throat. "I'd better turn in before Liv sets Michelle after me." His mind was playing tricks on him. It  _ had _ to be the stress of the past 24 hours catching up with him. He had no place feeling disappointed. Disappointed in what?

Rosé nodded. "Nighty night, Dimples."

"Night, Rosie."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh wait, there's more!_

It didn't take long for management to recognize that not only were Denali and Rosé the best dancers of the group, but they worked very well together. The way they matched and one-upped each with kicks, splits and silly faces in playful competition, and everyone around them quickly took notice.

"You two have impressive chemistry," Michelle observed with a glint of amusement. "We love blossoming friendships."

Naturally, they were paired up again for the Saturday Night Fever-themed show that promised to be a massive hit with guests. Lamé, crazy heels and big hair just had a way of bringing people together. Denali and Rosé's choreo was so challenging, all the other queens stuck around to watch their segment's rehearsal well after they were done with theirs.

"Do you want that to fan, or do you want it to break?" Denali asked, throwing his leg up in the air.

A collective groan rose from the queens.

"Not that, bitch," Rosé laughed, shaking his head.

"Show off!" Gottmik shouted from the back row, and, true, he’d been shamelessly flaunting – there was something about Rosé that just seemed to call for it.

"We can't all just stand there and look pretty," Denali shot back, his grin growing wider as the other queens wooed. 

He was properly winded – so out of shape, his old rink buddies would be horrified. Meanwhile, Rosé looked effortlessly, infuriatingly  _ perfect  _ with his long legs and easy smiles. Even his flushed cheeks and the stupid hair clinging to his forehead looked kinda cute.

"Are you trash-talking me right now?" Rosé feinted shock.

"Just calling it like I see it." Denali paused for a much-needed sip of water. "I’ll try to tone it down so you can follow."

"Someone’s getting con-fi-dent," Rosé sing-sung, holding the last note for a few extra seconds.

Denali flashed him a bratty pout. "I guess if you can’t keep up, we could make it a solo number."

"Hey, Rosé! Why don't you join my crew?" called Mik, the self-admitted weakest dancer of the gang. "I can teach you a wicked Seatbelt, baby!"

When the room erupted into laughter, Denali felt his heart swell. He relished the easy camaraderie growing with the girls. He’d missed being part of a team so much.

"So are you a  _ dancer _ dancer, or what?" Tina asked once rehearsal started winding down.

"Close. I used to be a professional ice skater," Denali answered, dabbing sweat off his face.

"Cute," Rosé purred, skimming a hand over his shoulder as he walked by.

"I think ice skaters are really hot," Olivia said, beaming. "All that lower body muscle..."

Denali put a hand on his hip and struck a pose. "I mean…"

"Oh, she’s feeling herself, mama," Tina scoffed.

"I only speak the truth," Denali replied, her tone dainty.    
  
When he looked up, Rosé was by the door, saying something to Mik that had him roaring with laughter and shooting one of his too-bright smiles. They hugged, still laughing, and Denali looked away before he had to examine the twinge he felt watching them.

***

There was a lull in their schedule between rehearsal and call time. While the other queens sought a little quiet, Denali decided to wander around the maze of shops, food courts and attractions for a little me-time. This was how he was wired – he needed to keep moving to reflect on whatever was on his mind. He wasn’t restless, exactly, his body just  _ prefered _ being in motion. 

If asked how he was adjusting to the seafarer’s life, Denali would reply he was doing just fine. He enjoyed the busy and noisy atmosphere, the frantic excitement of guests determined to make the most out of their ten days of capitalistic hedonism, how shiny and bright everything looked. 

On the flip side, he was only beginning to wrap his head around the fact that anything that didn’t happen to be aboard a 1000 foot-long floating village was off-limits to him, and his social interactions were now reduced to patrons and coworkers – the closest thing to drag queen boarding school.

There was a plethora of spas, arcades, multiple swimming pools and a casino, but not one of his go-to’s when he needed to feel a little more like himself – no way to cook a batch of his mum’s hot tamales recipe. No strolling at random, following the paths that spoke to him until he was so lost he had to Uber back home. 

No drunken sing-alongs at the top of his lungs in the privacy of his own home. 

No rink.

He could see why people would grow bored. Why they would get lonely and fidgety and anxious.

For now, he was fine. Really. But he couldn’t help wondering about Rosé.

***

That night after the show, a gang of drag queens in full disco attire descended on The Pit, the one bar aboard that upheld a strict Crew Only policy, ready for a grand old time. They danced, they drank, they spoke in catchphrases and soft barbs, shouting nonsense at each other until the night started winding down. 

After Olivia conspicuously disappeared just steps behind one of The Pit’s bartenders, Denali settled down in a cushy window armchair and proceeded to stare into the nothingness ahead, one last cocktail in her hand. While her smile had never faltered, her train of thought had coloured in sombre undertones, lingering on missed chances and other could-have-beens.

All night, she’d felt her attention drifting back to Rosé but had kept her distance as she grew wary of her own reaction to the other queen.

Sure enough, she could feel her approaching now, just from the tingle down her spine. 

"So," Rosé dropped into the chair opposite her. "I’ve been wondering. How does one go from professional skater to actual ice princess?"

Usually, Denali would deflect with metaphors or parables, but she was at least three drinks past that kind of decorum.

"You fuck it up, quit, and find something new, I guess," she said with a mitigating smile.

"Define fucking up," Rosé frowned.

"I guess it comes down to 'not being the very best'." 

Rosé looked unconvinced. "So there's only one person in the entire world who's not fucking it up,  _ and _ they live on borrowed time?"

"Very that," Denali held her glass in approval and took a long sip. She hoped the lightning was forgiving enough to cover the heat of rehashed humiliation. 

"Questionable career choice, if you ask me."

"It's all I ever wanted to do," she shrugged. "Ever since I first watched the ‘98 Olympics with my mom." She paused for another sip and her vision blurred for a second. "After it fell apart, I felt... so small."

"You're not small. You're  _ petite."  _ Rosé shot her a soft, teasing smile.

Working so single-mindedly for most of her life toward something that would never materialize had shaken her to his very foundations.

Whether by sheer arrogance or a deliberate strategic mindset, she’d never acknowledged not making it to the national team as an actual possibility. When the selection had slipped through her fingers, she’d taken it  _ hard. _ First came the partying, the hangovers, the general sloppiness. And then the string of injuries had started. Torn ligaments, stress fractures – enough to accelerate the sundowning of her competitive career.

She’d always thought she’d figure out his retirement plan  _ after _ she’d done her most, only to be left on the side of the road midway through with a handful of state-level titles and an open-ended offer to join the local coaching team. The landing was  _ brutal. _

"Do you still miss it?" Rosé asked.

"Which part?" 

It wasn’t a yes or not question, but she was buzzed enough to allow her mind to drift into bruised places.

"I don’t know. Competing? Being  _ that _ bitch?"

"Sometimes. I really like winning, blame my Aries ass. But other bitches kept coming. Younger, more talented."

"Okay, Beyoncé," Rosé snorted. "No limelight-sharing for you. Got it."

Denali pursed her lips into a pout. "Stop mocking my pain and maybe I'll let you be my Michelle Williams."

"Have you ever skated in drag?"

Denali raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Do you really need to ask?"

"I think I’d like to see that."

"Oh, it's  _ very _ gay," she grinned.

"Good to know." Rosé burst into laughter. "Consider me duly warned."

"There's nothing like being on the ice. I can't explain it. It's just so freeing." Her face sharply heated up – did she  _ have _ to be such a cliché?

"And there I thought you were only in it for the glitter leotard."

"That, too," she grinned. "Were you ever into sports?"

"I like a good workout," Rosé offered with a mischievous smirk.

Denali rolled her eyes. "Okay, Scotty McSmooth."

"Nope, never into sport. I only ever exercised to look good, ‘cause I’m vain. Now, I’m too busy for the gym and I’m getting old, so my body’s going to shit."

"Yeah, you should really do something about that disgusting decrepit body of yours."

"You’re the pro. I’ll take your suggestions."

There it was again, that undercurrent of awareness upping its voltage to a clear tingle. Rosé held her eye for a moment, and Denali could feel her reading her – seeing through all the layers of makeup and deflection and yearning.

"I don't know what it is about you…," she said softly. "I didn't even want to look at you."

It was so distracting at times, looking at her – threatening to trip her choreo in front of all her peers and several hundred guests. Compelling her to spill her guts at the smallest coaxing. Barging into her mind when she had no business doing so. What a terrifying power to hold over someone.

"You're going to have a lot of time to look at me," Rosé replied earnestly. "Hate to break it to you, but we're both trapped on this damn boat."

"Is that good, or bad?" Denali asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I guess we’ll find out."

She might not have been entirely sure what she was asking for, but Rosé’s non-answer confused her further, bringing a rush of thoughts to the surface – needy, embarrassing thoughts.

_ Please, be my friend, I’ve been so lonely. Are we gonna fuck? Will you hang out with me? Would you know how to calm me down when my mind spirals? I want to do your nails, want you to style my wigs and pick my dancing shoes. I want your full attention. I want to kiss the cleft of your shin. I want to take care of you. _ When _ are we gonna fuck? _

Wait, no, that wasn't right. 

_ I don’t fuck with people I work with,  _ Denali reminded herself.

"I don't fuck with people I work with," she blurted out. 

"I don’t remember propositioning you, Dimples." Rosé’s lips stretched into a lopsided smile. "I’m flattered, though."

Denali cursed under her breath, only slightly irked by Rosé’s dismissal.

"I feel like there’s a story there," Rosé pressed. "You, not-fucking people you work with."

"Not a very interesting one."

"I still wanna know." Rosé said, her eyes pinning her to her seat. " I want to know you."

Suddenly, Denali felt tired. Exhausted even. With all her strengths drained out of her, she couldn’t engage anymore, couldn’t flirt or be gently toyed with. She just needed  _ out. _ Out of her heels and her wig and her makeup. Out of this drifting island keeping her away from everything and everyone she knew.

Out of this vulnerable state of early infatuation.

"I’ve been in drag for like six hours," she said, straightening. "I think I need to let everything loose before there’s any permanent damage."

"Sure. We wouldn’t want that."

"Night, Rosé." Denali drained her glass and got to her feet, the room swimming dangerously around her.

"Wait." Rosé grabbed her arm, steadying her. "Let me give you a hand."

"I’m _ fine,"  _ she shot back, and proceeded to nearly trip on her own feet.

"I know you are. Just humour me, okay?"

"Oh, alright," she sighed, and let Rosé guide through the tables and down the stairs, her heels dangling from her hand.

"That wasn’t so bad, was it?" Rosé asked as they reached Olivia and Denali’s shared cabin. 

"You’re so smug." She could still feel the heat of Rosé's hands on her lower back and wrist as she unzipped her dress and peeled it off her body.

"Are you all good?"

_ "Yes,"  _ Denali huffed, wiggling out of her tights. "Unless you want to help me untuck, I think we’re done here."

Rosie shot her an affectionate smile. "Night, Dimples."

"Night, Rosie."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm chinesebakery on tumblr. Come scream at me about RPDR anytime!


End file.
